What If? - Drarry

Chapter Fourteen

Draco opened his eyes and blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright morning light streaming in through the window. The absence of Charlie's snoring disorientated him for a moment, until he remembered where he was, and smiled.

It had been three days since Draco had moved into Harry's flat, and already they were falling into a routine. While Draco had quickly reverted from the prison's schedule back into his usual habit of lying in, Harry had always been a morning person, and Draco had yet to wake up before him. Sitting up, Draco mentally prepared himself for the coldness of the world outside his duvet for a moment before he stood up, pulled on some clothes, and followed the mouthwatering smell of frying eggs and bacon to the kitchen, where Harry stood at the cooker.

"Morning," He said, leaning on the counter next to Harry. 

"Hey," Replied Harry. His hair was wet and curly from the shower he'd had, and the sun shining through the kitchen window illuminated the profile of his face and the stands of his hair, painting them gold. "You want some food, I'm guessing?"

"If I ever say no to any of your cooking, I want you to shoot me," Draco laughed, trying to ignore how good Harry looked - something he was finding increasingly difficult to do the longer he shared a home with him. 

Once Harry had finished cooking, they each carried a plate each to the sofa in the living room, as well as a cafetiere and milk which they placed on the floor due to the lack of a table. Like every day, Harry turned on the TV.

Television had fascinated Draco from the first time Harry had explained it to him. He'd found out that it didn't only show men running around on green fields - Harry had explained the principle of football to him, but he didn't understand the awe with which the muggle men seemed to regard it - but it also showed things like dramas, and comedy shows, and his personal favourites: documentaries. In the mornings, though, they usually watched the news. Draco didn't understand a lot of it - muggle terms were still new to him - but he liked watching the images, and was amazed that the muggles had come up with something so complex without magic. 

"Sleep okay?" Draco asked absently as they watched, turning to look at Harry. 

"I didn't really get much, as usual," Harry shrugged. "What about you?"

"Pretty well. I'm thinking I might start asking around for jobs today - I finished my CV yesterday, not that it had much on it that muggles look for."

"Good idea." Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly, pushing his glasses up his forehead. "Do you have any smart clothes to wear?"

"I don't know - what sort of thing does one wear for job enquiring?"

"Let's look at what you got," Harry said, standing and turning off the TV, leaving his empty plate on the sofa. "If it comes to it, you can always borrow something of mine."

Draco had unpacked everything that had been in the boxes from the Ministry, but it hadn't really changed the unfamiliar way his room looked because there was so little of it. The only additions he'd really made were clothes to the wardrobe, books to the bedside table, and a few more bits and pieces that he'd had at Hogwarts. Everything at his father's remained untouchable. Opening the wardrobe, he and Harry stood side by side, regarding the mediocre selection of tops, jeans, and robes. Harry reached for a pair of black trousers and passed them to Draco. 

"Black is a good formal colour. You want people to think you look nice, but not imposing, so maybe a coloured top? Blue's pretty neutral," He rifled through the hangers and fell on a simple blue T-shirt, which he also handed to Draco. "What jackets do you have?"

"I don't know... I have these," Draco gestured to the hoodies on the top shelf. Harry shook his head.

"I have a denim one you can borrow, it'd suit you."